


Narcoleptic Nymphomaniac

by Brenda



Category: Actor RPF, CW RPS, Captain America (Movies) RPF
Genre: Chad's internal monologue is both hilarious and wrong, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Jessica has a great ass, Chad has problems mixing alcohol and sex, and Chris Evans replaces Jared as Chad's BFF. </p><p>(Fic takes place at the 'Home of the Brave' premiere, which starred both Chad and Jessica Biel.  Jessica used to date Chris Evans.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Narcoleptic Nymphomaniac

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in April of 2008.

It wasn't a secret that Chad liked women. Like, really liked women. Like, liked them to the point that he could totally see himself as his generation's Warren Beatty or Jack Nicholson (only not as creepy-weird in his old age, he hoped, or as talented, because, get real, Warren friggin' Beatty and Jack fucking Nicholson), going from girl to girl to girl, leaving a trail of wet panties and satisfied sighs behind until he was really ready to settle down in his mid-40s with a smokin' hot babe and pop out a few rugrats to secure his legacy. Yeah, sure, he'd already jumped the gun on his timeline when he'd married Sophia, and she was smokin' hot, no two ways about it, but she wasn't the only smokin' hot chick out there.

Which, of course, explained why they were now divorced and still barely speaking to each other off set, and why he knew he needed to wait until he was older to try the whole marriage gig again.

It also explained why Chad tried so hard to get inside Jessica Biel's pants while they were shooting their film together, because, really, any dude with half a brain and the ability to get it up would be all over that fine piece of ass like white on rice, he didn't care how committed they were in their relationship. Jessica was like a free pass or something, right up there with Angelina Jolie, Salma Hayek and Monica Bellucci. Not that he'd met any of the Holy Three yet, but, hell, he was still young, and so were they.

Of course, Chad had also made the mistake one night of drunkenly _telling_ Jessica all of this, and his theories on monogamy, or, rather, how monogamy didn't work if you were a guy under the age of 40, but with chicks it was totally different, on account of the biological clock thing. So she wasn't exactly speaking to him, either. Called him a sexist pig, if you could believe that, which totally wasn't the case at all. Chad _loved_ women. Really, truly loved them. And respected the hell out of them. They were definitely the smarter of the two species, everyone knew that, and they had intuition that he knew he'd never have. He just never got why he couldn't respect women as a whole and still want to bang all of the really hot ones while he was still young enough to enjoy himself.

Women were all that and a bag of chips, no fucking doubt about it, but he'd never, ever, in his entire life, _ever_ get them. And, he supposed that put him right up there with every other guy on the planet.

But hope sprung eternal, or so his grandmother was always fond of telling him (and she was a hella smart broad, see, totally not sexist), and Jessica was looking mighty hot in the dress she'd chosen to wear to the premiere of their film, 'Home of the Brave'. No harm in trying again, right?

He sidled up to her, all suave-like, looking rather dashing in his black suit with its silver tie and cummerbund, if he did say so himself, and snagged a drink from one of the roving waiters. Didn't matter what sort of drink was – it had alcohol, and it was wet, and those were the two key factors. Hell, free alcohol and schmoozing with hot babes was the only reason anyone ever showed up at premieres and after-parties, everyone knew that.

He took a small sip of his drink – some vodka/Red Bull concoction (Red Bull must've sponsored the party) - and gave Jessica (and her very fine ass) an appreciative stare. "You're looking especially beautiful tonight," he told her in his smoothest voice.

She rolled her eyes, and flipped a perfectly coiffed lock of hair off of her shoulder. "Honestly, Chad, give it a rest."

"How can I, when thoughts of you keep me awake at night?"

"Seriously?" Her sigh was, sadly, not one of passionate surrender. "Did you seriously just say that to me?"

"What? It was a good line." Hell, he thought it was a _damn_ good line.

Just then, Jessica's ex, wearing a dark grey suit, and looking rumpled and sexily disheveled in a way that Chad could never achieve, his hair as closely shorn as Chad's own, walked up to their tête-à-tête. "What was a good line?"

Jessica gestured between Chad and the ex. "Chris Evans, meet Chad Michael Murray. Chad, meet Chris. You two should get along great, since you're both so into fucking yourselves," she said, then sashayed away, taking her supremely fine ass, as well as the rest of her, to the other side of the room.

Chad furrowed his brows in confusion. "What'd she mean by that? I totally don't fuck myself."

Chris chortled into his drink. "Dude, you fucked Paris Hilton."

"Hey, no one can prove that and I never admitted it." And why the hell did everyone try to bring that up or get him to confess it, like he was the only guy in the world who'd fucked a skank and lived to regret it.

"Yeah, but your wife left you," Chris pointed out, in a salesman-helpful tone. "How do you fuck up bagging a babe like Sophia Bush?"

"Uh, hello, have you _seen_ your ex?" Chad asked incredulously, pointing to Jessica's side of the room. He was all for taking shit like a man, but really, Chris giving him the beat-down was so the pot calling the kettle retarded. "Best ass in Hollywood and you completely screwed that up."

Chris frowned. It looked sort of cute, in a puppy-ish sort of way. "She didn't have that ass when we were together."

"Yeah, well Sophia didn't look that hot when we were together, either... Oh, dude, hold on," Chad said, as a supremely transcendental thought struck him. "Your ex and mine. Making out with each other."

Chris opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again, and made a couple of fish faces before he finally cleared his throat enough to speak. "Wow. Okay, I think I just nutted in my jeans. You think we could convince them...?"

Chad rolled his eyes. He'd always heard Chris was a little slow on the uptake. Pretty and built and talented at posing, but not too good for much else, including thinking on his feet. Sort of like a lot of ex-models turned actors that Chad knew, come to think on it. "Uh, man, I dunno about you, but Sophia isn't even speaking to me. I doubt she'd make out with Jessica for my amusement."

"Good point," Chris conceded.

"Although...you met Jared's girlfriend?"

"Jared?"

"Yeah, Padalecki. He's an idiot, but he's my best friend, so, what can you do. Anyway, his girlfriend, Sandy? Totally smokin' hot, man, you would not believe how hot she is." Hot and stacked and tiny, and Chad had actually met her first, which totally gave him Prima Nocta rights on her and Jared's wedding night, or so he kept telling Jared. He got the feeling that Jared didn't find the thought of that as funny as he did. Cocksucker had totally lost his sense of humor since he'd gotten trapped in Vancouver on that dumb-ass ghost show he was on (not that Chad had a lot of room to talk where his own show was concerned, but still, at least he could still laugh about it). "Now, she and Sophia made out once in front of me and Jared."

Chris let out a low whistle of admiration. "That's some best friend."

"Yeah. But he's off doing some retarded paint-by-numbers movie right now." Fucking cold-ditched him in his hour of need, and what the hell kind of friend did that?

"Dude, that, like, totally sucks. Lemme buy you a beer."

First decent thing Chris had said all night, and since Chad was obviously scoring a big fat zero where Jessica Of the Hot Ass was concerned, he decided to hell with it. "Yeah, alright, man."

***

The empty shot glasses were lined up along the bar like sentries. Chad had lost count at seven each, but he was blearily sure there were more than...wait, what was seven plus seven again? Fifteen, eighteen, carry the one, wait, hold on, that was totally wrong, but who the hell cared, wasn't like anyone was actually asking him to, y'know, count. There were a lot of empty shot glasses, but it wasn't like he was driving home. And he hadn't fallen off the bar stool yet, and neither had Chris, so hey, still not totally trashed.

Speaking of Chris... Chad turned his inebriated gaze to his drinking buddy, good old Chris, the Chris-meister, Chris of the hilariously ribald jokes, Chris, who had his brows furrowed again, and was sporting a small half-smile that made his cheekbones look even sharper and his big, bedroom blue eyes look even bigger and more bedroom-ish.

Chad was suddenly struck by a wave of love for Chris so profound he thought he was having a goddamn epiphany or something equally religious. "You." He poked Chris on the shoulder, and slid it down along the soft fabric of Chris' shirt. "Damn, you are one good-looking dude."

"Thanks, man. You, um, you too." Chris swayed a little as he saluted Chad with his beer. "Prettiest fucking eyes I've ever seen on a guy, no lie. Hey, I rhymed," he pointed out, happily.

They both thought that was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.

"Why the hell are we both still single?" Chad wheezed, when he got his breath back.

"That's..." Chris looked confused, and slightly sad. Chad didn't like Chris sad, even though it made his eyes crinkle in a very attractively emo sort of way. "That's a good question, my friend."

"If I didn't already have a BFF, you'd totally be my bitch." Stupid Jared, anyway, up and leaving him to go and work with Peter O'Toole, woopdie-fucking-doo, like Chad had never worked with A-list talent before or Oscar nominees. Hell, Chad had worked with Oscar fucking _winners_ , and still found time to go to Jared's shitty-ass movie premieres to save Jared from boredom. Fuck Jared and his stupid-ass need to have a stupid movie career in the off-season. Chris was totally going to be his new BFF. "I take it back, you can totally be my bitch."

"Wait," Chris asked, sounding confused again. "Why do I have to be the bitch?"

"'Cause, uh, that's what I, um, call Jared."

"Oh, uh, like a nickname?"

"You got it," Chad grinned and tried to snap his fingers for emphasis. His fingers, the little traitors, refused to cooperate. "Huh, I think I broke it." Once more, he put his thumb and finger together. There was still no resultant snap. "Did you hear anything?"

"Nope." Chris leaned into Chad's hand, and peered closely, like he was a scientist inspecting a microcosm or micronism or whatever they were. "It doesn't look broken."

Chad cocked his head, and tried to snap them again. Nada. "I don't hear any snapping."

"Maybe it's a silent sort of snap."

Whoever'd said Chris was an idiot clearly had never met him. "Man, you are really smart," Chad said, admiringly.

"Thanks." When Chris smiled, he showed off the most brilliantly white set of perfect teeth, which was saying something in this town full of perfect teeth.

"Jared says I'm a narco...narce...narcissist, no, that's not...uh, he said that I'm a sleep fucker."

"Huh?"

Chad had no idea why he was bringing this up, but he wanted his new BFF to know everything Jared knew, so that way he wouldn't have to train Chris. Being a BFF took a lot of work, and a certain amount of knowledge. Best that Chris get a headstart. "Yeah, y'know, like those people that fuck while sleepwalking."

"Is that –" Chris hiccupped, then let out a rather impressive burp. "'S'at even possible?"

"I dunno, man, he's the one that said it." Chad threw up his hands, wobbled on his stool before he righted himself, then finished his beer. More beer would definitely help with the reflexes, on account of all of the hops and barley and other grains. "He said that's why I fucked Paris. Because I was all drunk and shit and didn't remember."

"You mean, like a narcoleptic?"

"That's it! Yeah, narco...anyway, what you said."

"Man, that's a horrible thing to say."

"Thanks, dude. Man, you've got really pretty eyes."

"Thanks, you too." Chris leaned in, those pretty eyes and thick lashes _thisclose_ to Chad. "Wanna go back to my place and make out?"

Seriously, Chris had just about the best suggestions ever in the history of history _or_ ever. "Sure."

***

If Chad was at all coherent, which he wasn't, but that wasn't the point, because the point was he was drunk, so he couldn't be drunk _and_ coherent, the world didn't work like that, but anyway... _if_ Chad was in the mood or frame of mind to be coherent, he'd write an ode to Chris' hands. Well, maybe not an ode, because that sounded sort of stuffy and not very sexy at all, and it would be a really sexy ode, because what Chris was doing to Chad's cock with his hands was seriously sexy.

It was just too bad that Chad couldn't really properly appreciate it, on account of he was so drunk and all.

He lolled his head back, stared into Chris' eyes, then around Chris' bedroom. It was pretty nice, as far as bedrooms went – it had the requisite bed (the most important thing) and some dressers and it wasn't even that messy or anything, well, aside from the mess of clothes on the carpet that he and Chris had made in getting each other naked. Who knew it'd be so damn hard to finagle shirt buttons when one was shit-faced, seriously, buttons should come with warning labels after alcohol or maybe the alcohol should come with a label about the shirt buttons, Chad wasn't sure. The point was, Chris had a nice bedroom. But even nicer hands.

"Feels nice," he mumbled, and pawed at Chris' back. And it did, what Chris was doing with those beautifully beautiful hands was downright amazing, but it was like Chris was rubbing on him through concrete, no, wait, that would hurt. Like, um, cotton or gauze or something that would lessen the impact of touch.

"You feel great," Chris mumbled back, and their lips slid messily together in a slow kiss. Chris was also a really good kisser, and if anyone appreciated the art of good kissing, it was Chad. Unlike Sophia, who wasn't very good at all, not nearly enough tongue for Chad when they kissed, not that he should be thinking about Sophia at a time like this, because Chris didn't even look like Sophia, and he sure as hell didn't feel like Sophia, and his hands were better.

"I, uh, don't thin'...I can, um. Come. Like this."

"Huh?"

Chad shifted, and smiled up at Chris. "No' enough, um, friction." Even as drunk as he was, he still remembered it took friction to tango or foxtrot or whatever the saying was, the important thing was, Chad wasn't getting enough of it on his dick, and that was a Bad Thing.

"Oh." Chris nodded. He was already all sweat-slick, but really muscled all over, and had really nice, sweet-tasting skin. "Wanna fuck?" Chris suggested.

Seriously, Chris had the best ideas ever. "Okay," Chad replied happily. Hell, whatever Chris wanted, they were BFF now, after all.

Chris rolled off of him for a moment, drunkenly rummaging, then returned and held up a bottle in triumph. "To make it, um, go in. Easier," Chris said, and Chad was so touched by Chris' display of chivalry where his ass was concerned that he thought he should kiss Chris again to show his appreciation. But it was like Chris' lips were like Pringles or something, because Chad totally couldn't stop at just one, and before he knew it, they were rolling around the bed, kissing and touching and moaning and when Chris put a slicked up finger inside him, Chad just sighed and opened his legs.

After a few minutes, however, it was pretty clear, even to Chad - and man, he was druuuuunk, had he mentioned that already? - that this was so not going to work. Not that the finger, fingers, hard to tell, but he thought it was two, inside him weren't great, because they were really, really, really great – had he mentioned that Chris had great hands? – but, as great as the fingers were, he just wasn't too sure about the rest of it. Specifically Chris' cock. More specifically, Chris' cock occupying the same space that his fingers were currently (and beautifully) occupying.

"Chris, um..." He tapped Chris' shoulders, and frowned. As much as he thought, or thought he thought, he wanted this, one glance at Chris' cock convinced him. "I don't think it's gonna fit."

Chris, who was kneeling between Chad's thighs, looked down at his dick. His rather large dick that was resting far too close to Chad's ass for comfort. "Really?"

"Yeah." 

Chris let out a small sigh, and looked sad again, which made Chad sad, and the last thing he wanted to be was a sad drunk, so he tried to think of something that would make Chris happy. That's what BFFs did, at least, that's what he was always telling Jared, the traitorous fucker. "We could suck each other off," he suggested, because even if it wasn't going to fit up his ass, his mouth was a completely different ballgame, on account of how it stretched and all. Besides, if they were sucking each other off, then that meant there wouldn't be any bouncing around on the bed – not that bouncing around on a bed was a _bad_ thing, but Chad was already slightly dizzy, and maybe bouncing wasn't such a great idea.

And Chris had really nice lips, too, and was a great kisser, so Chad could only imagine how great those lips would feel wrapped around him, all sucking tight and such.

"You." Chris poked Chad's thigh with his cock, leaving a wet pre-come smear, like he was marking his territory, and flopped on his side with a happy sigh. "You're fuckin', um, brilliant."

Damn right, Chad was brilliant, and he loved Chris even more for having the good taste to recognize his brilliance. He gave Chris another kiss (Chris also had an amazing tongue technique), then wiggled around until he and Chris were cock to mouth. The room swayed as he moved, but in a totally cool, not heaving, way. "I know," he replied, and slid his lips over the head of Chris' cock as Chris did the same to him, demonstrating that, oh yeah, his tongue and lips were just as talented as those hands of his.

And Chris' cock in his mouth was definitely much better fit than his ass. He really was a fucking genius.

***

It wasn't every day that Chad woke up naked next to an equally naked man. Well, not so much with the naked _self_ bit, because Chad was always naked (well, as much as he could be anyway), but the other bit? The bit that featured a naked man next to him? Yeah, not so much with that.

Despite the rumors about him and Jared a few years back (okay, okay, so they weren't just rumors, but it was only the once...okay, _fine_ , three or four times, but who was counting, honestly, like he couldn't lie to himself without his brain chiding him like his damn ex-wife), Chad really was all about the nookie. Of the _female_ persuasion. Which didn't quite explain why he was currently sprawled - naked, had he mentioned that? - on a very comfortable bed of a very unfamiliar room with a rather impressive (if you were into that sort of thing) view of a very naked, very _male_ , very unfamiliar back.

He opened his eyes to slits to get a better view - but not too much, because the light was fucking _bright_ , Jesus, who told the sun it was okay to just shine all brazen and shit like that - and reached out a tentative finger to poke said back, and yep. It was real, alright. Real and warm and very muscled and _very_ male.

Which meant he probably wasn't dreaming, even though his brain felt about as fuzzy as a stuffed animal.

"Hey," he said. Or thought he did. Hard to be certain with the cotton in his mouth and the drums currently beating out the national anthem of Rwanda in his head. And he didn't even fucking _know_ the national anthem of Rwanda.

The back didn't move.

"Hey." He tentatively tried poking the back again: tentatively, of course, because moving any part of his body was akin to asking him to perform cartwheels or brain surgery or something. Moving was a Very Bad Idea, and the last time he'd done something that was a Very Bad Idea, he'd wound up on Jared's sofa with a black eye and a few very sore ribs (although Jared was really sorry about it afterwards and had totally picked up the tab when they'd gone out for the next month, but still. Black eye. Sore ribs. Not a great combination).

He gingerly – very gingerly – tapped a couple of fingers on his face for any soreness, and let out a small sigh of relief (but very small, so he didn't jostle his head, which was threatening to come completely off his neck like a broken bobblehead doll, which might be a relief, because at least he wouldn't feel all fuzzy and the drums would stop) when he didn't feel anything that might be a bruise or swelling. "Um," he said again, and this time the poking thing did the trick. The back sort of slowly rolled over to reveal an equally impressive (if you were into that sort of thing) muscled and very male chest.

Chad opened his eyes a little more, winced at the evil cocksucking light, and finally, fuzzily settled on an equally fuzzy gaze. "Chris?" he asked, still not entirely sure if he was, in fact, dreaming. Although why he'd be dreaming about being naked with Chris would be a mystery, but, hey, who knew what the mind conjured up after a lot of alcohol.

Chris nodded once, then groaned pitifully and let his head fall back on the pillow. "Fuck," he moaned, closing his eyes. He looked a little grey around the edges. "Why're you...in, uh, m'bed?" He sounded like he might have the same cotton problem Chad did.

"Naked."

"Huh?"

"We're naked." Which was a really important point, because Chad totally did not wake up naked with naked men, even if he was all fuzzy and shit and there was a lot of alcohol involved.

"Yeah, whatever." Chris weakly waved a hand. He didn't open his eyes. Chad didn't blame him.

Chad shifted slightly, and two horrifying things suddenly became Very Clear: 1) his dick was really sore; and (more importantly) 2) his ass felt somewhat...stretchy. Instantly, horror turned into panic.

Fuck, man, not again. Jared would never let him live this down if he'd just slept-fucked Chris fucking Evans.

"Did we...um, have? Y'know," he almost whispered the last word, "sex?"

_Please, please, please, let him say no, let him say no..._

"Uh." Chris cracked open an eye. Chad could see him moving his hand under the sheets to feel himself. "I'm not...uh. Sticky. You?"

"Stretchy. Not, um, not sticky...no." This was far too surreal of a conversation to be having without aspirin or coffee or even a hot towel or sunglasses to block out the evilness of the sun. "And, uh, my mouth..." There was something faint, under the general grossness of whatever had crawled into his mouth and died last night, but Chad could almost taste it... "like...cinnamon," Chad continued, licking at the corners of his lips. Slowly licking, mind, just to be sure the marching band wasn't going to start the drum solo again.

"Cinnamony?" Chris pursed his lips together in a cute frown, if frowns could be called cute, especially on a person that looked like death warmed over. "Oh," he mumbled, and flailed about under the sheets again. "Like...um, this?" he asked, and held up a bottle of _Honey Bee's Wild Sex Oil_ , cinnamon-flavored.

Chad was definitely still dreaming. Although why he'd be dreaming about naked Chris Evans in bed with him, holding up a bottle of cinnamon lube was something he really didn’t want to think too much about, even when he was sober and shit and not hung over.

"Lube? In bed?" he asked, hoping the words would convey the entirety of his question, because he wasn't sure he was capable of full-on sentences yet. He definitely wasn't capable of contemplating what lube had to do with him having a slightly stretchy ass and a mouth that sort of tasted like roadkill mixed with mouthwash.

He was never, ever letting Jared know about this.

Chris rolled his eyes, then let out a low, pained moan when the movement jostled his head. "Why d'you think, genius?"

Chad didn't know about anyone else, but he sure as shit didn't _feel_ like a genius right now. "I dunno, man, I just use, y'know, lotion."

"This tastes better."

Chad licked at the corners of his lips again. "Good point," he conceded, even if he did still think it was slightly strange that a dude would have cinnamon lube. Then again, Chris was a ex-model, and they were a strange breed unto themselves, he'd heard all kinds of stories, and even if only half of them were true, man...

"Next time, um, less tequila before we...y'know," Chris said, and slowly – very slowly – started to stretch. The movement tightened already tight muscles. Chad watched, somewhat fascinated and somewhat envious. Yeah, he worked out and kept himself fit, but Chris was _ripped_ , and why the hell was he checking out Chris' ripped body?

Wait.

"Next time?"

Chris fixed those bedroom eyes on him, still pretty, even if they were bloodshot to hell. "Next time. So we can, um, be sure, y'know?"

"Okay?" Chad offered, even though he wasn't exactly sure what they were talking about.

"Alright, then." Chris nodded, as if that decided the matter. Then he snuggled back into his pillow, and tugged slightly on Chad's hand. "More sleep. Buy you breakfast later?"

Chad still had no idea what the hell he was supposed to be agreeing to, but the fuzz in his brain wouldn't clear long enough for him to try to figure it out. In the end, it was easier to lay back down and let Chris pull him close. It was sort of weird, but sort of nice, cuddling like this. Chad didn't even mind the way Chris' breath huffed across the back of his neck, or the feel of Chris' very decidedly _male_ parts nestled against his ass. Just as long as Chris didn't get any ideas about making his ass more stretchy while he was still trying to keep the drum corps in his head silent.

Looked like Chris was going to be more like Jared than he'd previously thought. "Sure," he finally mumbled, answering Chris' question, and deciding the rest could wait until later.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Stace for encouraging the idea and to Dee for the great beta and kicking my ass on the sex scene.


End file.
